I had no appointment when I knocked on the front door of St. Agnes Roman Catholic Church at 2023 San Pablo Avenue a week later. But inside the Rectory, I was given one hell of a reception.
St. Agnes was situated on a frenetic thoroughfare on the border of Berkeley and Oakland. Shabby apartment buildings and storefronts made up the neighborhood. An Indian sari store, a salvage depot for old appliances and a check-cashing office nearby added that little Je ne sais quo. The hood was probably lovely 75 years ago. But the local businesses, not to mention four lane traffic and ramps to the freeway near the front of the school, left me wondering if Dick DeNutti had lost his fucking mind.
Elspeth and I parked the VW Bug behind Rainbow Foods next to the church. We were panhandled for money twice in one block, a sore reminder of the street scene at Zach’s former public school. The church rose majestically on a slight hill requiring me to haul us up two sets of sandstone stairs before Elspeth said she just couldn’t go on. I wasn’t sure if she meant live or simply climb to the top.
“You go find Father Hal,” she panted, blotting her forehead with her lace hankie. “Come get me in the sanctuary when you’re done. I’ll be the one praying like hell in the last row.”
St. Agnes was situated on a frenetic thoroughfare on the border of Berkeley and Oakland. Shabby apartment buildings and storefronts made up the neighborhood. An Indian sari store, a salvage depot for old appliances and a check-cashing office nearby added that little Je ne sais quo. The hood was probably lovely 75 years ago. But the local businesses, not to mention four lane traffic and ramps to the freeway near the front of the school, left me wondering if Dick DeNutti had lost his fucking mind.
Elspeth and I parked the VW Bug behind Rainbow Foods next to the church. We were panhandled for money twice in one block, a sore reminder of the street scene at Zach’s former public school. The church rose majestically on a slight hill requiring me to haul us up two sets of sandstone stairs before Elspeth said she just couldn’t go on. I wasn’t sure if she meant live or simply climb to the top.
“You go find Father Hal,” she panted, blotting her forehead with her lace hankie. “Come get me in the sanctuary when you’re done. I’ll be the one praying like hell in the last row.”
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